What the hell was that..
Posted on Wed Jun 2nd, 2010 @ 11:10pm by Walter Jones & Charlotte Ashcroft & Tyl'varas Shrive & Martok
739 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission: Session 3: Fear of the Dark
IC
"Damn" Martok cursed as he hit his head making his way into his quarters in search of night vision goggles. He finally reached his door without too much injury once inside he reached into the drawer where he kept all of his vision enhancing equipment and pulled out his night vision goggles. "Finally I can see." he muttered to himself.
One of the Targs that had been running free found the unconscious Lottie laying in the corridor... getting a smell of something on her it slowly moved up and started roughly licking her face.
Of all the ways of coming round being coating in saliva wasn't on that Lottie had in mind. Feeling her senses returning she became aware of the smell of hot, stale breath, the coarseness of something wet rubbing roughly against her face and hair. If this was one of the unlucky crew members attempting to stimulate her they were in for big slap.
Groggily she opened her eyes and blinked heavily. Were they actually open? She couldn't see a thing, and still the attack on her face continued.
"Get off," she said horsely raising a hand to push the offender away.
Unexpectedly the stranger growled, a deep throbbing sound that could not be replicated by man.
Half way through sitting up Lottie froze in horror. What the hell was that?
A long moment passed, tense and silent, then with Lottie sitting perfectly still barley breathing the onslaught resumed upon her face. Although feeling groggy her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, slowly she turned those heavy eyes to what it was actually slobbering over her.
The sight immediately made her jerk awake. It was a Targ, and it was licking her face! One wrong move and it could be chew off her head. It seemed quite content at present but for how much longer Lottie wondered?
On the outside of the Warden, a loud clamping noise could be heard. The sound echoed through the entire ship and made the entire ship rock slightly to the left and then the right.
The abrupt shaking of the ship sent both Lottie and the Targ tumbling in the darkness. Lottie scrambled up quickly up on all fours before finding her balance so desperate to put distance between her and the creature, for the movement seemed to anger it. Without a backward glance Lottie ran into the gloom feeling the ship sway beneath her and the Targ howling as it gave chase.
Could this really get much worse?
Jones voice boomed over what was left of the internal comm system. "Guys, we've got some unfriendlies that just clamped on the ship, and with everything down at the moment be prepared for some fighting, get the guns out."
"Can we launch these damned targs out of the airlock at them?" Shrive yelled, as he headed to his station.
"Get rid of the.." The transmission was cut off as the ship rocked again and the sound of cutting could be heard on the outside of the hull.
Martok tightened his grip on his knives and kept his night vision on waiting for the boarding party to arrive.
Fighting the last affects of the tranquilizer Lottie groped for her fire arms gripping them tightly as the ship wobbled followed by the grinding, ear shrieking noise of metal cutting from above.
It was ironic she thought ducking into a shadowy corner: the Warden crew weren't overly law abiding citizens yet it sounded as if they were about to boarded by pirates further up the 'food chain'.
Yes, it seemed this ordeal with Targs running loose around the ship in semi darkness this situation could become worse.
A loud squealing could be heard coming through most of the ship, a deafing loud noise that sounded like metal on metal, and then silence.
"Crew of the Warden... lay down any weapons or arms that you may have and we will more then likely let you live." Boomed through the ship in a rich baritone voice.
Wincing at the ear screeching noise, imaging the ship being opened like a can Lottie cast her gaze around for the heavy, booming voice. Lay down your weapons - like that's going to happen.
Shrive unholstered two disruptor pistols. Calmly walking towards the direction that the assumed hull-breach was, he checked over his weapons. Nonchalantly, he simply said, "Well, I suppose I should keep one alive for interrogation..."
TBC
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